Beyond the Sand, chapter four
Spock sat at his computer and ran his computations for a third time. He knew that his mental capacities were diminished, but he still thought that he could do this. He had been successful years ago, when they had gone back in time to find the whales, and although many variables were different now, he was certain that he could identify those variables and make the appropriate substitutions. Or… Perhaps he should say that he was certain enough. Regardless, one thing he did not doubt was that time would only add to the risk. If he were to do this, he must do it now. At any rate, what did he have to lose? Very little, and much to gain.
When a signal sounded at his door, he knew that it would be Sarek. He rose from his desk, but he was so eager to talk to the other man that he called out, "Enter" before he had made it to the door.
The door slid open, and as he had expected, Sarek walked into the apartment.
Obviously detecting Spock's excitement, Sarek asked without preamble, "Spock, has something changed? You have more energy now that I have witnessed in you for quite some time."
"I have been considering taking action," said Spock. "Drastic action."
"What is it?"
Spock motioned Sarek into the main living area and indicated that he should take a seat, then sat down across from him.
"My time is limited," said Spock. "Every day is more difficult than the last. Soon, I will no longer be able to live independently."
Sarek settled himself more comfortably on the sofa, clearly taking a moment to compose his thoughts. "I have avoided this discussion," he said, "but now that you have brought it up, I will tell you that I want you to come live with me. It is only logical. We are compatible, and it would please me to help you."
"It is most kind of you to make such an offer, but I anticipate that you will remarry. It would be unfair to expect your new bondmate to help care for me."
Sarek shook his head, "That is not a factor. To be blunt, I do not want to be with another woman again. Amanda is still a part of me. No one can ever replace her."
"I understand. That is exactly how I felt after Nyota died." He leaned closer to Sarek. "It is fortunate that eventually I realized that accepting a new woman into my heart did not mean I was pushing Nyota out of it. I always knew that a human's capacity for love was limitless. It took me longer to understand that a Vulcan's could be, too."
Sarek was silent for a long time. "You remarried?" he finally said.
"Yes. My wife's name was… is T'Val. Nyota has been on my mind recently because she is here, but the person with whom I belong now is T'Val."
"Am I correct in assuming that she is Vulcan? I am not aware of anyone with that name."
"She is much younger than I, so she would not have been born yet, but her parents did not escape Vulcan. She will not exist in this universe."
Sarek nodded solemnly. "That is unfortunate."
"We have two children, a grown son and a very young daughter. Nyota and I also raised a girl who was not related to us by blood but was no less our child, and her descendants are my descendants. They are all there, in the other universe. I find that the only thing I want before I die is to see them again. Nothing else matters to me anymore."
"What about your work here? Have you not found it rewarding?"
"Yes, very much so. I was responsible for the destruction of our old society, and while I knew that I could never make up for that, I also knew that I could help build a new one. I have done that. There is still much work remaining, but I leave it in capable hands."
"You have given this much thought. But how can you return? I am aware of no technology that allows one to move between universes."
"Long ago, I had reason to calculate equations for time travel, deliberate time travel unlike the accident that brought me here. I will not divulge why or how I did it. Suffice it to say that the calculations were good, and we accomplished what we needed to accomplish. I remember those calculations, and I have adapted them for my current situation."
"Very well. We will assume for the sake of argument that you can travel forward to the appropriate time. This still does not explain how you will move to your universe."
"Not forward in time. I will go back in time."
Sarek frowned. "Please explain."
"Each universe has its own quantum signature. I speak from experience when I say that Mother Nature always tries to right herself. If a being's quantum signature does not match the universe in which he resides, given the opportunity, he will be routed to the correct universe."
"Forgive me, but I still do not understand."
"I will go back in time, and when I come forward again, I should follow the correct time stream. My quantum signature will prevent me from crossing over to the incorrect one."
"Your vessel will have the quantum signature of this universe, will it not?"
"I will use a ship that was built before the split in the time stream."
"I see." Sarek's expression grew distant. "Theoretically, I believe that it could work."
"I have one problem, however. I do not want anyone else to attempt this. Despite my confidence that I am making the right move, it will be risky. It would be disastrous if word got out. Has not everyone lost someone? Almost certainly, some people would choose to follow me. I cannot allow that to happen."
"I do not foresee this as a problem. I will simply tell people that you died."
"That might very well work. You can tell them that I died more quickly than anticipated and you were unable to retrieve my katra, to explain why my katra is gone."
"I shall do that."
"I will leave final instructions, and you can carry them out with the appropriate amount of grieving. Will you help me procure a ship?"
"Yes. I will falsify the records so that no one notices it is gone."
"A lie?" asked Spock.
The corner of Sarek's mouth turned up in something closer to a smile than Spock had ever witnessed on his father's face.
"A kindness," Sarek replied.
...
Spock sat in a flitter across the street from the house that he and T'Val had shared throughout their marriage. It was nighttime and he knew that he could not be seen despite the faint glow of the streetlights. Just the sight of the house caused a constriction in his throat, for he had thought that he would never see it again. It was an old house, one that she had bought before he met her and filled with an odd combination of practical Vulcan items and whimsical Earth antiques. It had a charm that was all hers, and he had been pleased when she finally programmed the door to recognize him, all those years ago. She had fled Vulcan because of an abusive husband, and it had taken every bit of persuasion he could muster to convince her to marry him.
His idea to go back in time and come forward again had been sound, but his calculations had not. He had overshot his target by almost four years. Per the records he been able to access, his son was now married and had a child of his own, and his daughter had taken up dance, with great promise. He had come across more than one article about small competitions which mentioned her name. Saavik was still living in her home on the beach, alone, and she had another great-great-grandchild. He, himself, had been declared dead.
And T'Val… He found no indication that she had remarried, or that she even had someone new in her life. He had been sitting out here for over an hour, and he knew that she was home because he had seen glimpses of her and their daughter, two silhouettes behind drawn curtains who were going about their everyday routines, unaware that their lives were soon to be turned upside-down.
He finally exited the flitter, squared his shoulders, and approached the house. His heart hammering in his chest, he went up the front steps, crossed the porch, and stopped just shy of the front door sensor. Would the door still open for him? He took a deep breath and moved forward. The door slid open, and he stepped into the house.
"T'Val," he said, but his voice caught. He cleared his throat and tried again. "T'Val," he called out. "T'Val. I am back."
From the kitchen, he heard, "Spock? Spock? Spock!" and the clatter of a pan hitting the floor, then frantic footsteps. She flew into the den and threw herself into his arms, and he pulled her close and buried his face against her neck. He had done it.
He was home.
End "Beyond the Sand"
